by Jess Bentley
“Well, it would probably be smarter for me to focus on just one of you… more normal, maybe?”
“Ha!” the youngest one, Charlie, barks with a wink. “Normal is not anything we're known for. It's really hard to get excited about normal, don't you think?”
“Yeah,” Tim smirks. “If you really wanted to impress us, you would have to flirt with all of us.”
“Yeah, right, guys… all five of you,” I laugh, but when I look around, they're not laughing. They’re smiling, sure, but not laughing. I can sense them leaning forward expectantly, wondering what I'll say.
“All five of you? Are you serious?” I ask, my voice suddenly quavering, but curious too.
“Is it something you could consider?” Stan says gently, his voice a low grumble in his throat.
They all seem to be on watch, waiting, leaning forward to find out what I'll say. If this was a pack of hungry dogs, I'd expect to see little lines of drool oozing down toward their plates.
“Geez, guys, give the girl some air,” Hank finally interrupts. He pushes himself back in his seat and tears the bread loaf in half.
I try to catch his eye, to see if he had a change of heart or was really trying to offer me a way out. He won't meet my eye again, but I sense he wants to. He just wants me to look away first.
But as they all grudgingly slump back in their seats, returning to their attention to their heavily-laden plates, I realize something very strange. I liked it. When they all looked right at me, I liked it quite a bit. It might sound strange — astonishing even — but the thought of being swept up in their fairytale fantasy of five handsome farmers sounded enchanting. Really delicious.
Chapter 5
Hank
When Tim and Tom came home last night, I heard them laughing, teasing each other, occasionally roughhousing onto the floor. I sent them over with those jugs of apple wine expecting them to come right back, but apparently it turned into a dinner party with the new neighbors.
If I'd known, I would've gone over there myself and brought extra provisions. It seemed too weird to invite myself over, not even knowing who was going to be in the Geller house anyway.
Stan got their names from Charlie and I googled a little of their background. Turns out Anita and Earl are well respected nature documentary makers. From what I understand, she's the writer and the on-screen talent, and he does all of the camerawork and editing. It looks like a nice partnership. Kind of a dream come true for a lot of people, I suppose.
In one of their shorter films about monarch butterflies moving through Louisiana, there was a short sequence that featured a young woman. It's a sunlit, grassy swamp. The tassels on the ends of the tall green weeds sway back and forth in a breeze, with the sound of buzzing insects and frogs making a kind of intensely anxious soundtrack. The grasses move dramatically on the right side of the screen and then she appears, pushing her way through. As she disturbs the tall weeds, a thousand monarch butterflies take flight all at once. She stares up at them as they flutter through her hair and disturb the edges of her dress, her expression full of delight and wonder.
When I saw the video, I was transfixed and played that part over and over again. Something about her eager charm, her willingness to trudge through a swamp in order to be overwhelmed by pretty insects seemed so strange, so feral.
But I never really expected her to look like this.
Charlie tried to warn me. We stood in the kitchen piling food onto platters as he peeked through the door into the dining room. He said she was gorgeous. He promised I was going to like her. I didn't believe him.
But just look at her.
Stan’s covering her hand with his giant paw, and she hasn't pulled her hand away yet. Tim and Tom are practically licking their chops, and she hasn't punched either one of them in the face yet. She's totally unafraid. Willing, even.
Is that possible? Could she just fall into our laps like that?
She glances up at me, and I have to look away. It’s like a lightning strike, that bright blue flash of her eyes. Stan wants to know right away. He wants to pressure her. Tim and Tom just blurted it right out: would she flirt with all five of us. Just like that! They just laid it all out there.
Nice romance, guys. Real nice.
But she hasn’t run screaming from the room, and that’s a fact. I want to look at her, to see if I can tell what she's thinking. But I'm afraid she's going to look back at me. I'm not really sure I can handle it all just yet. I need to give it a minute to settle.
“So… that wine. It’s delicious,” she finally says, breaking the silence again. “You make all of that here?”
“Every drop,” Stan nods. “Well… for now. Charlie has some big ideas about taking us international. Expanding our options.”
“Seriously?” she asks, fluttering her eyelashes charmingly. “International? Like where?”
Charlie inflates with pride. If there's one thing he likes doing, it's explaining his grand vision for our stuff. You would think he was the Steve Jobs of the apple juice world. It’s a little over the top, if you ask me.
“Yeah, we’re totally serious,” Charlie brags. “We have been working this farm for about a hundred years. No pesticides, all natural by tradition. When all the millennials suddenly wanted everything organic, we were already set. We got big. Really big. Then we started making that apple wine…”
“Delicious,” she sighs, her cheeks going pink with the memory. Is it just me, or is she practically reliving it?
“Well, I sure am glad you think so,” Charlie continues. “We’ve got some people in Europe who seem to think the same way. We could go to Portugal, France, there's a few options. Bavaria…”
“I think Bavaria is not a country,” she remarks with a pretty little scowl. Her fair eyebrows bunch up just slightly in the middle as she concentrates, apparently laying out an imaginary map of Europe in her mind. “It's a region, right? In Germany? Like over by Czechoslovakia or something like that?”
“Yeah… that’s where our family came from, originally. It's actually a lot like this part of Pennsylvania. We could use everything we learned here, over there. I even have the farmstead picked out. I could show you sometime —”
“Oh, God, please don't!” Tim barks, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Vanessa, if you let him go on like this he's going to drag out a PowerPoint presentation and everything. Please, I beg of you, don't!”
She smiles broadly, her cheeks dimpling in the middle of those sweet, round mounds. She looks so soft, I want to run my palms over that velvety skin.
“Nobody does PowerPoint anymore,” Charlie sulks.
“Well, you can show it to me later, maybe? I love hearing about far off places. My parents were always telling me to pack everything up to go someplace new. We basically went wherever the story would take us, mom always says.”
“That's pretty unusual,” Charlie remarks. “Do you like it? Moving around so much?”
She taps the side of her plate with the tip of her fork distractedly, shrugging one shoulder. The fabric of her dress slips down slightly and I see the ridge of her collarbone.
“Yeah, I guess I like it. Anyway, that's how I was brought up, so I didn’t have much of a choice. I suppose I like the adventure and I appreciate all the things I've learned. But, you know, it would be nice to settle down. Something like that.”
“Something like that?” Stan repeats. He narrows his eyes and looks her over, as though trying to figure out exactly what she means by that.
“Well maybe some kind of compromise,” she shrugs. “Settle down, but not settle down. Stable, but with a lot of adventure. Is that possible?”
“Totally possible,” I hear myself say. She glances over at me, her mouth open slightly in a surprised smile. I realize I haven't been talking. When our eyes meet, it’s just like I was thinking it would be. The connection is electric. Startling. Sizzling.
“That is good to know,” she says.
“Did you mean what you
said before?” I ask her. I hear Charlie's fork hit his plate next to me. “About… uh... flirting with all of us?”
She takes a deep breath, still smiling, then lowers her chin seriously. She is squaring off with me, accepting the challenge that I'm laying down.
“Well, I meant it,” she answers slowly. “The question is, did you mean it?”
Stan shifts in his chair. He likes to act like he's in charge or something, just because he's the oldest. It comes naturally to him, that paternal attitude. Not always my favorite thing.
“It’s not a joke, Vanessa,” he says with a distinct warning tone in his voice. “This is something we decided long ago was right for us. Family is everything. We work together… we plan together… we play together… and we want — how can I put this — everything else together.”
She sucks her cheeks in, pursing her lips. Her eyes rove among us, going from brother to brother, looking us each up and down.
“Did I sound like I was joking?” she challenges. “Do I seem like an innocent little waif? I feel like Little Red Riding Hood with five big bad wolves at the table.”
“Not Tom,” Tim sneers. “Tom's a beagle puppy.”
“Shut up, man,” Tom growls.
“Both of you, knock it off,” Stan rolls his eyes. “The lady was talking.”
She pushes herself back from her chair, standing up. With their fingers on the edge of the table, she leans forward, smiling at all of us.
“Actually, I'm done talking,” she shrugs with a saucy tone. “I'd like to see with this is like. Do you have any more of that apple wine?”
“Actually, we have something even better,” Charlie says excitedly. “Want to come on back to the den?”
She blushes and smiles, biting her lower lip charmingly. My brothers take her by the elbows and talk with her in low voices as they guide her to the large room at the back of the house. Charlie disappears and comes back a short time later with one of the really old bottles from the cellar. Stan raises his eyebrows and then shrugs. Why not?
She stands in the middle, turning in place slightly, smiling and laughing as the guys maneuver her toward the big leather sofa. This is where we spent a lot of our time when we have free time, watching football, shooting pool, maybe even getting a little work done. Now with a woman in the middle of the room, it seems different. Way better.
Charlie uncorks the bottle and pours out just a little bit into a collection of small, fancy blown glasses. He passes the tray around and everybody takes one reverently, glancing at each other like something important is happening.
“The crabapple is the only apple that's native to the United States,” Charlie begins his lecture. “When our great-great-grandfather got to this land, that was all that was here. He planted every one of these apple trees himself. But first he tried harvesting the crab apples. He set aside a couple of barrels of wine, and this is one the last three.”
“Wow,” she breathes, inhaling the elixir. We all watch, practically holding our breath as she takes that tiny, magical sip. She holds the potion in her mouth and then she looks up, surprised.
“You like it?” Stan asks her.
“I've never had anything like it,” she smiles. “I love it.”
She settles down into the leather sectional, in the middle angle. After thinking about it for a second she reaches up toward Stan on her left and lets her fingertips trace his chin. Tim and Tom glance at each other for approval and then settle in on the other side of her. Charlie takes his place at her knee and looks at me, jerking his chin to direct me to the vacancy at her other knee.
Stan holds her eyes as Charlie reaches up to undo the bow at her waist. Tim and Tom gently drag the fabric apart, revealing her front side. She shivers slightly as the cooler air hits her and I notice tiny goosebumps race across her belly.
She's wearing pale blue, lacy panties and a matching bra. Her thighs are creamy and plush, rounded just right. She makes me hungry to look at. She looks delicious.
“What… what do I do?” she whispers in a small, nervous voice.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Stan instructs her. “We’ll do everything.”
Charlie pulls her dress open further while Tim tugs the sleeves off her shoulders so that she's lying on top of her dress, just in her bra and panties. But even that covers too much of her creamy, luxe body. Tim opens her bra from the back and lets loose those beautiful, glowing orbs. As soon as they’re exposed, Tim and Stan each take one for themselves, slurping noisily, licking from the full outer borders to swirl around her tight pink nipples.
She arches her back and moans, pushing her knees open automatically. Tom leaps over the back of the couch so that he can taste her mouth, leaning over, and I stare into the tempting blue triangle of her panties. Charlie glances at me, encouraging me, but I shake my head. Not yet. There's so much to explore here, I want to save that for last. I want to know she's really ours.
But still, her moans are almost too much to bear. As Tim and Stan suckle her harder and harder, she twists and groans, her voice filling the air. Her hand sneaks across her belly and into the front of her panties. The knuckles of her fingers nudge against the fabric as she slides her fingers against her sex, working her magic quickly.
My cock is so full I want to come just from watching, just as she does, just as she lifts her beautiful, luscious ass off the sofa and clenches her thighs. I'm only moments away from coming myself when she slumps back, breathless and spent, shuddering as Tim and Stan leave her titties coated in glistening moisture.
“That's a good girl,” Stan coos. “That's exactly what we wanted, right, boys?”
He brushes the hair back from her forehead as her eyelashes flutter and her breathing gradually slows. Glancing back at me, he raises his eyebrows in question. I nod slowly. I never really thought we would want to do this again, want to take on another woman again, but here she is. And so far… she seems perfect.
Chapter 6
Vanessa
In the morning, the golden light through the window makes this pink room seem like a Technicolor wonderland. It’s like I'm living on the inside of a flower, just about ready to bloom. Like I’m encapsulated in a rosebud or something.
As I stretch luxuriously, one tiny morsel of memory pokes through the fog of my brain: crabapple wine. Was it really wine? Liqueur? Hooch, even? Whatever it was, it was magical.
Five beautiful brothers, all at once, going over my body with a fine tooth comb. I felt like a princess, like I was being worshiped in no uncertain terms. I had no idea my nipples were that sensitive, even. As soon as I had Tim and Stan with my breasts in their mouths, their tongues beating my nipples mercilessly, I felt like I was going to explode. All I could think about was how much I wanted them, how much I wanted that feeling, and then I…
Oh my. Right in front of them?
Yes, I did. I touched myself right in front of them. I bet Charlie or Hank could probably see right up into me as I touched myself until I came. I've never done that in front of one person, let alone five.
In fact, I hardly ever do it at all. Somehow I managed to be the only girl in my dorm who didn't lose her virginity in the first two weekends. Once I missed the window, I just sort of kept it up. All of my dorm mates were going out every weekend to party and hook up and I guess they just all picked their dance partners. I didn't get asked and I didn't know how to cut in.
But I'm not going to tell them that. How embarrassing!
I feel a million times better than I did yesterday morning, when that hangover was kicking my butt. I have to remember to not overindulge on the wine, especially if it's right next door. It’s a little too tempting, since it's so delicious and so available. Maybe I should give myself some kind of rule. A quota or something. Or I could try to exercise a little self-control.
Self-control… like I exerted self-control when I made myself come in front of five men? Oh boy.
“Vanessa, you're a grown woman and you’re going to own this,” I
say out loud into the bright pink air of my bedroom. “Own it, girl. That was some good shit, and you deserve it.”
After my little lecture, I figure I might as well get up and get dressed. I'm hungry again, ravenous even. I think I can almost smell coffee coming up from downstairs and it makes my belly rumble.
Quickly I get dressed, after a brief shower to refresh. I pick out a fluttery violet tank top and cut off shorts. I expect today will be pretty hot, and I'd like to explore the forest a little bit more.
“Oh, there she is,” my dad smiles as I come into the kitchen.
“Here I am,” I say automatically, since this is our habit. He's always “discovering” me. And I'm always being “discovered,” like the wildlife in their documentaries. It's just the way we talk to each other since I was a little girl.
My mom waves a spatula at me and goes back to flipping ham steaks in the cast-iron pan. She scratches absentmindedly at her hip and casts her weight to one side. Her long, wavy hair flows down her back in a shiny river.
“Coffee?” my dad asks me, splashing me a full cup without waiting for my answer.
Breakfast is delicious and simple. Flapjacks, eggs and ham steak. Cottage fries and some extremely tart blackberries.
“I found this giant blackberry bramble out on the south end,” my dad says, squinting at a handful of dark berries. “I wonder if they ripen up a little sweeter than this.”
“They will work for jam, anyway,” I remark, biting into a couple more and crunching through the seeds. “It's kind of neat to have these around.”
“Yeah, I found some old grape vines even, and a bunch of blueberries too, that aren’t ready.”
I smile, happier than I can explain.
“I guess this place is just kind of magical like that,” I say. “How did you find it anyway?”
Dad shrugs, exchanging a look with my mom who pivots toward the cabinet and opens it, then closes it again.
